Five
by Razer Athane
Summary: Five questions, five answers. A glimpse into the lives of King, Lei, Michelle, Angel and Jane. -Oneshot-


Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Tekken.

Author's Note: Just a concept I felt like trying out, with people I've never written (or have verrry rarely written). I've left the character tags alone. None of these snippet things are not connected. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>FIVE<strong>

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><p><em><strong>I.<strong>_

_Question: Where are you?_

Somewhere in Mexico, King knows that his master is living and _breathing_, and it confuses him to no end.

He remembers very clearly the day that he received that phone call telling him that Armor King was dead, killed in a bar fight. He remembers very clearly how he entered the Fourth Tournament to exact vengeance, only to find two months later that his master's alive and well, and fighting against him.

King doesn't understand why Armor King doesn't remember him, but he supposes that the King Of Iron Fist Tournament Six, whenever it's announced in this war-torn would, would be the place to find out. So he trains, spars with Marduk, and waits for it to come. He waits for the rumours, then the flyers and the tryouts, and then the fights that will soon follow.

A bell goes off, signalising the end of his training for the day. Armor King taught him never to overexert himself, and so he'd taken to using alarms – too many times he's become lost in the regime, and it did no good for him. As he stretches, he looks longingly at the photograph of his master that's pinned to the back of his door. It greets him every morning and bids him good night every evening; and it makes him smile every time, remember those good moments, and remember _exactly_ what a great man's done for him.

King will find his answers at the sixth tournament. They may be bad, or good, but regardless he will always remember the lessons he learnt from the person who once mattered most.

_Answer: I am always in your heart._

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><p><em><strong>II.<strong>_

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><p><em>Question: Where did it go wrong?<em>

Lei – more often than not, now – always wondered why things turned out the way they did. After all, he and Bryan were remarkable, super partners.

He did indeed mourn the loss of his partner, staring into televisions with a hollow and gaunt expression in the weeks that followed the man's death. He had lost many friends and family members before, but there was always something about _loss_ that Lei took particularly hard. Probably because he hated remembering that he had no control on the world.

But when he saw him again – alive, moving... _eerily robotic_ in the third tournament, he almost couldn't believe his eyes. It made his stomach lurch when he approached him, asking what happened, how it happened, and if he was doing okay. Why he never called him or any of the other officers to let them know that he was alright. Why he let them think that he'd died. His answer instead was a punch to the face, and not an inkling of acknowledgement. That hurt more than the loss itself.

It became worse when his superior threw down a bunch of papers before him, all of them with Bryan's face on it, and his connections with drug dealers. One of the papers even mentioned that he had arrived at the tournament with the intentions of killing another competitor. That was not the Bryan he knew. Not at all.

Lei did his job. He asked the questions, fought the fights, and looked for the answers. But not once – ever – did his former partner ever recognise him. Bryan was gone. He moved, laughed and fought, but he did not feel.

_Answer: When you refused to try._

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><p><em><strong>III.<strong>_

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><p><em>Question: Why have you changed?<em>

When Michelle held the pink and white mask between her hands, she felt very confused.

She had raised her Julia to always be strong and kind, but modest and true to herself. From what she'd seen of these... _'fights'_ on television, from the reports on the radio, and this... _'outfit' _ that was on her body in these posters... Was this really her baby Julia at all? Was she still there behind it all, or had it gone in favour of... what she was now?

She had no real opinion for or against this wrestling career, but of all the things that her daughter chose to go into, it was _that._ Yes, she'd been told about her friend and how she was merely covering for her, but her friend was better not, out of hospital and able to fight again. And yet Julia remained in the ring, throwing her fist in the air and performing with such tenacity and showmanship that her previous tournament bouts felt like an echo of a person she once knew.

Perhaps it was the fights in the first place that geared her towards this. Maybe Julia – _Jaycee_ now, wasn't it? – preferred the showboating to the hardworking and sacred techniques. Maybe she wanted the attention as opposed to only drawing on it for self defence. Or maybe – maybe it was both. Maybe she didn't know her daughter as well as she thought. She breathed in and looked up to the mirror, listening to her as she hummed in the shower.

There was no point in asking, so she stopped her questioning. There was no need for it. She loved Julia and would support her in whatever she did. And as she tried the mask on, she thought that perhaps it would be worth a look at herself.

_Answer: Because change is imminent._

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><p><em><strong>IV.<strong>_

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><p><em>Question: How did I let you slip away?<em>

Angel will always watch Kazuya, quietly from the shadows and with the utmost intrigue. She will always hope for him, but never do a thing.

A part of his mind, perhaps, or a part of his soul – or maybe she is just what came along with the Devil, when he asked for it. Whatever had happened, Angel saw a troubled and misguided little boy, one that she wanted to help, but never... really did. A failure in her self-imposed mission – or was it that Devil was simply stronger than her?

She grew to love him, the son of Heihachi, and she hoped that he hadn't become so cold that he could not feel it. But in a corridor of mirrors with no one but the strongest of challengers, more blood would fall onto the floor. And the more that would fall, the more that she would feel uncertain. Doubt would crawl into her mind, and in response, the more that another hand proved to be more interesting, more suitable, more... _more Kazuya._

Over time, maybe she'd withdraw into her own corner of his consciousness. Perhaps in the end she would leave his body and watch from afar, from the corners of the world with a weary frown on her face, and the echoes of her promise to save him. Maybe she would continue to plan her means of doing so, of saving the tattered innocence that remained – for many years. At least, until she would realise that he _doesn't care_ anymore. That in his own sick way, he's _happy._

And when Angel comes to realise the truth of the matter, she will raise a hand to wipe tears away from her eyes. When she realises when he slipped through her fingers, and into Devil's relentless and unyielding clutch, she will weep for an eternity.

_Answer: I was gone from the moment you lost faith in me._

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><p><em><strong>V.<strong>_

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><p><em>Question: Why did you save me?<em>

It had been just under twenty years to the day, but Jane's done it. She found a way to resurrect him.

The Mishima Zaibatsu funded her projects, her trials and failures; and after so long, she's brought Jack back – the robot who saved her life as a child. She watches with a mixture of fear and joy as this version, who she's dubbed Gun Jack, slowly comes to life. First he blinks, then he sits up and then... and then he sees Jane.

She waits with baited breath for him to recognise her – after all, she's used the same memory chip that she'd managed to save. When Jack looks at her, she squints from behind the glass, hoping to find a smile. Instead, there's a crash from behind her, and Tekken Force Officers grabbing her, throwing her to the ground and shouting things at her that she doesn't understand. She doesn't know what she's done wrong. She _hasn't_ done anything wrong.

It's in the moment that a gun is pointed at her head that Jack does spring to life, his arms whirring and his fingers twitching with inhuman strength. He charges. The soldiers are too surprised to fight back, and instead either their necks are snapped, or they run away. Jack only stops when he sees that there's nobody left, except for her. Jane gazes up, finding that he is looking back down on her. He's holding out his hand.

When she takes Jack's proffered hand, he helps her stand to her feet. She releases a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding and responds to the series of beeps that derived from her revived friend, "You saved me again, Jack."

_Answer: Because I saw nothing but kindness._


End file.
